


The feel of your skin (against my lips)

by LordOfTheNargles



Category: Naruto
Genre: Cute, Drabble, Flowers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rare Pairings, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:01:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8479699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordOfTheNargles/pseuds/LordOfTheNargles
Summary: Soft. That was the word Obito would use to describe his lover if asked.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/gifts).



> A contribution to this rare-pair hell xD  
> I hope you enjoy ^^

Soft. That was the word Obito would use to describe his lover if asked. The word seemed at odds with the hard muscle and strong demeanour of the man and yet it fit. The dark skin and strong hands would never radiate anything but a certain softness and warmth to Obito. He had come to associate it to the man, just as anything rough could be associated to himself. It was a juxtaposition. Obito seemed to grate upon everyone, no one seemed to be immune from his prickliness. His complete deadness. Everyone except Hashirama. It awed him sometimes, other times it simply frightened him.

It had been something of an obstacle in the beginning. Obito was constantly pushing the man away, refusing to let him in. The mans’ brown eyes- so soft- had been filled with determination and a hint of hurt that would seem invisible if not for Obitos’ familiarity with the emotion. It seemed sullen, but that was how Obito usually was. It was something of an achievement, to be able to repel people so quickly. It was branded on his skin, a sign that read poisonous. Hashirama, the amazing man that he is, didn’t seem to take the hint. It was how he found himself now, sitting down with his scarred hands grasped in Hashiramas’ larger ones. He looked deep into Obitos eyes for a moment, a smile lighting up his features, and began to mould their chakra. The soft- and they were god damn it, he felt the callouses and it confused him to no end-, warm hands that cupped his own brushed his fingers tenderly for a moment before curling around his palms. 

Obito sat confused until it trickled into wonder as he watched a small bud of green unfurl between their palms. He watched in shock as slowly the small plant grew until it was as big as his finger. Obito felt Hashiramas’ gaze on him as he watched transfixed. A brilliant burst of colour emerged from the receptacle and Obito felt his mouth open slightly. It slowly unfurled, until it formed layers upon layers of pretty purple petals. He thought of the chakra running through his palms, the soft curl of it against his skin. He marvelled at the control Hashirama had, to make the flower grow at such a slow, steady pace whilst drawing his own corrosive chakra. How precise the infusion was to create such a beautiful thing. He felt his mouth grow dry. The petals curled together until they formed a perfect halo around the small yellow bud. He felt Hashiramas’ chakra slowly receding, sending a tingle down his palm. The flower stopped growing and yet Hashirama didn’t remove his fingers. Obito found that he didn’t mind.

He memorized the details of the small Aster, its lean green stalk, soft petals, fluttery bud and slowly drew his gaze up to meet Hashiramas. They seemed to have grown closer to each other, so close Obito could see the honeyed flecks in Hashiramas eyes and the slight dusting of freckles on his nose. He wondered what hashirama saw when he looked at him. He decidedly didn’t want to dwell any further on that, not when Hashiramas fingers where ghosting over his cheek and lips where hovering closer towards his own. He tried to think of any reason he shouldn’t be doing this but for the life of him he couldn’t remember a single thing. Not when Hashirama pressed his body towards his own and certainly not when their lips caught gently, hesitatingly at first but building up like a whirlwind of passion. Soft, he thought once more as he groaned, the feel of the man like velvet. Their eyes met briefly and for a moment Obito could see something reflected in the man’s eyes. They were warm and filled with wonder. Happiness with a touch of longing. A fleck of something else that Obito couldn’t decipher but knew well enough, it was a look reflected in his own eyes. You are beautiful, they seemed to scream.


End file.
